Finding Faith
by omens
Summary: Ellie was finally moving on. Then he came back. Crellie.
1. Prologue

_**A/N: Me once again having my way with the season six spoilers. I didn't invent Jesse, but am choosing to excercise my creative right by twisting him to my will. **_

**Summery:** Ellie was finally moving on. Then he came back.

**Disclaimer:** Psh, if I owned Degrassi do you think I'd be here? Well, probably.

**Rating:** T for right now, but you never know where it will end up.

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**Prologue**

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There are times when I think I must have been born under a cursed star.

If you stop and think about it, it would all make so much sense. Especially where my love life is concerned. I mean it. My first love was moe interested in the boys soccer team than I was and used me as his cover. The only real boyfriend I ever had made me safe and convinced me to shack up with him only to take off on me. Then there was the crush. The stupid, disastrous, almost wrecked it all crush that only ended with him in the ever eager arms of another girl and me with a broken heart.

Doesn't it make sense?

I should have realized this when I started hanging out with Jimmy. I lead him on. Unintentionally, but I did. He still gets a little weird around me. That's probably why I started spending less and less time with him and Ash. That, and her pestering me about who my crush really was. So my getting that job at the magazine was actually perfect. It provided me the ideal excuse to not have to spend time with them without having to lie.

Then the inevitable happened. Just like on one of those little teeny bopper t.v. dramas, the girl finds a guy. One that pushes all of her buttons and is eerily reminiscient of the guy she's trying to forget. That was Jesse. Tall and dark with dimples to die for he could have easily been the brother of the boy I was trying so desperately not to think about. Only the wire-rimmed glasses perched upon his nose marked the difference. Physically anyway. Personality wise, the only similarity between thte two was the mile wide stubborn streak. Don't ask me why, but having my own refusal to budge attitude makes me inexplicably drawn to others who share said trait.

Is it any wonder I need therapy?

But back to the curse. I seem to be doomed to never really be happy in love. Oh sure, Sean and I had a pretty good run for a while. For about a millisecond there I thought we might actually make it. But of course it all fell to peices around us. Just like it's doing now. Jesse and I are beginning to crumble, like I always knew we would.

Why? Because **he** showed up and weasled his way back into both my heart and my life. Because he would never truly let me have any peace.

Craig Manning was back and I was just going to have to deal with it.

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_**A/N: I know it's short, but hey, it's the prologue. BTW, my spell check went schizo. If anyone wants to offer their services as a beta, I'd be forever grateful.**_


	2. Stars

_**A/N: Yeah, not my best. Still establishing the plotline.**_

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**Stars**

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"Have you checked your email today?"

"Hi Marco. I'm fine, and you?" I say sarcastically. Jeez, no pleasentries now, what are we here guys? Well, Marco is but you know what I mean.

"Sorry. Where are you? Wait, don't answer." he says in that usual flippant I know everything brilliant gay man way of his. "Dumb question. You're at work right?"

"I'm not always at work Marco." I say huffily, looking around the magazine office. How does he always know everything? It's so hard to lie to your friends when they know you so well.

"Sure." The humor is evident in his voice and I don't like it. Not one little bit. "So have you checked it?"

With a deep sight to let him know tha I'm extremely busy and am only doing it to humor him, I click the icon that's a direct link to my inbox. There it is. What Marco is reffering to. It must be.

An email from Craig. Sitting right there in my inbox like some little digital bomb about to blow my day to peices.

But I'm over Craig. That's what I've been saying for months. That's what I need for everyone to believe. That way I can believe it myself. "What exactly am I suppossed to be looking for?"

I can almost hear his happy little face fall with disappointment. "You don't see it?"

"See what?"

"Craig. Didn't he send you an email?"

"Oh, yeah. He did. So?" There, that was good. Let him think that it was a normal occurrence. That Craig sends me emails, letters, calls me all the time. If he thinks that, then there's no reason for me to be excited about this. Becuase there's not. He's just Craig.

And Marco's impeccible fashion sense means nothing.

"So?" he practically screams. "So it's from Craig Ellie."

"Like I said, so? It's just another email."

Oh, I hate lying to him. But really, it's all for the best in the long run.

"Just another email?" I can practically hear the squeak of those little internal wheels turning in his brain. When Marco smells gossip he's worse than Paige Michalchuck after Heather Sinclaire's latest foray into the world of surgical inhancement. "El, it's not everyday that Craig takes a break from recording his **first album **to send an email."

"Maybe not to you." I mutter under my breath.

"WHAT!"

"Marco, I need my eardrums." I whine, bringing the phone tentataively back to my ear. I don't know why my shoulders aren't more cut from having to pull the phone back and forth from Marco's hystrionics over the years, but I guess that's life.

"Are you saying," he demands, "that Craig emails you all the time?"

"Well, I wouldn't say all te time ..." More like never, but why split hairs?

The pointed silence is one I'm used to with Marco, but non the less disconcerting. Finally, he ends my torment and speaks up. "So what does yours say?"

Clicking it open, I scan quickly. "Uh ... not much. He's finished recording and he's coming back to visit in a while."

"Yeah, mine say the same thing." Marco replies. "Guess I'll let you get back to work then."

We hang up and it's all I can do not to cry. There are times, especially times like this, when I really hate Craig. Even when he's not around he always manages to ruin my day. Actually, day, week, month ... it's all the same to him. And the worst part? He doesn't even do it on purpose. If I weren't so mind-numbingly in lo-, I mean like with him him I might even find all of those annoying little things cute.

Such as this email. There, at the bottom corner is a tiny little animated star dancing around. Everything Craig has sent me from Vancouver, not that there's a lot, has something to do with stars. I don't know is he's referring to the fact that he thinks he's going to be some superstar (which he is of course) or if it's suppossed to mean something to me. I've tried a million times and can't think of anything in our weird little history that pertains to stars.

Well ... that's not entirely true.

During 'That Summer' Craig insisted we go to this indie rock festival concert thing in Barrie. You know, the kind of thing where the last remaining hippies get together with the save the world contingent of today's youth and discuss Jerry Garcia and how to legalize pot and things like that. I went, to make him happy and to get away from my mom, and we actually had fun. We ate non dairy tofu ice cream and organic veggie burgers and listened to amazing music for hours under the sky. Later on we wondered around an area off to the side where some people had set up displays of crafts that they had made. One guy made one of a kind wooden creations, the most beautiful being an ornate box, about the size of a shoe box, painted deep purple with carved shimmery stars of silver, gold, and white. I fell in love with it at first sight, but it cost a hundred dollars. The next morning, I got up to find it sitting on my kitchen table. My mom said that it had been on the front steps when she'd gotten up that morning. The only way to explain it's presence was Craig's going back after he dropped me off at home and bought it. I saw him at group later that day. He didn't meantion it, so I offered up a vague 'thanks' and that was the end of it.

I thought about it on my way back to the dorms. Jesse had been in a meeting with the copy writers so I escaped the barrage of questions that undoubtably would have been hurled at me. He always knew when I was upset, even when I try so desperately to hide it. Guess I should rule out acting as a future career possibility.

But, back to the box. No sooner than I got it, I began putting things in it. But just any random item were not allowed inside. Oh no, the box was reserved for those little trinkets that reminded me of that oh so annoying musician friend of mine. In fact, it marks the transition of my thinking of Craig as just Ash's boyfriend, to my friend, to the deniable, unrealistic, slighty pathetic crush he remains to this day.

Little things are in there, things that wouldn't even make sense if seen by anyone other than Craig and myself. Flyers. Programs. Tickets stubs. Candy wrappers. Receipts. Fortunes from that horrible Chinese restaurant he loves so much. A dry, withered dasiy necklace that Angie had made me the day Craig and I took her to the park. The three postcards and one letter Craig had sent me from Vancouver tied with an old shoelace. A bunch of random things that didn't seem to have any connection to one another unless you knew the stories behind them. All the cheesy b-movies and amazing concerts that we'd attended provided the tickets stubs. Music festivals and plays in the park gave us the flyers and programs. The candy wrappers are from the day we skipped group to see who could eat the most Tootsie Rolls (He won of course. Guys are like trash compactors.) Receipts from anywhere and everwhere around Toronto. We had Chinese every Friday all summer and Angie had created a virtual flower wardrobe for both Craig and me the day we spent in the park. But I reflect on that day, all I ever seem to remember is that he got so sunburned even his ears peeled and I had to put aloe vera gel on them for him every day for a week.

I used to keep the box on my night table. It was always right there and that was comforting somehow. Then the idiot had to go and choose Manny _coughtramp_ Santos over me at that stupid gig that none of us but him wanted to play anyway ... and I exiled it to the top shelf of my closet. Out of sight, out of mind.

Yeah, I know. Never works that way in reality. Sounds good though.

If it really were true, I'd have thrown the wretched thing out. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it. As much as they hurt, they're reminders of one of the best times in my life. That's why I brought them to college with me, to live once more in the top shelf of my closet. I mean seriously, how can I throw away a prsent that someone drove almost two hours and spent a hundred dollars to get? Not including the gas money. It would just seem ... like a betrayl.

I pull it down when I get back to my room. Every little thing is exactly like it was the last time I looked in here. I don't know what I was expecting. Some sense of clarity maybe? An epihany on why I can't seem to just let it go. A clue as to why Craig is such an ass. Whatever my search, it was fruitless.

I'm wearing one of Craig's shirts. He ambushed me on the hottest day of the year with water ballons in his front yard and drenched me head to toe. He let me wear it while mine dried. But I still wore his home. Ans since he never asked for it back, well you know how it goes. Posession's nine tenth of the law and all that. It's what I have on when I wonder what the stars mean. When I hear the knock on my door. When I open it, in Craig's shirt, the snowflake pajama bottoms, and no makeup. When I see Craig Manning standing on the other side.


	3. A Slumber Party Like Situation

**A Slumber Party Like Situation**

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"What are you doing here?"

"Nice El. It's good to see you, too." he says sarcastically.

I didn't mean that the way it sounded, honestly I didn't. I'm happy to see him. Really. I'm just, well ... shocked would be a good word but it's not really strong enough. Floored would be better. Leveled, even.

"Sorry." I say. "It's good to see you." I hug him awkwardly, dying a little with embarassment on the inside. He returns it with none of the tension I'm obviously feeling. But does that suprise anybody? Didn't think so.

"So ..." he says. He's got that tone. The one where he's waiting for me to say or do something but I have no earthly idea what it could be. A clue, perhaps.

"So ... " I repeat.

"Can I come in or not?" he finally asks. Duh, Nash. Leave him him standing in the hallway. Super idea. I step aside to let him in and notice tht he is carrying a very large black duffel bag and his guitar case. Hmm. Not what you'd see when a friend is just dropping by.

"Craig, why do you have luggage?"

"I actually kind of need to talk to you about that." he said sheepishly.

Why do I get the feeling that I'm not going to like this?

"You see, Joey took Angie to visit his mom and I didn't know so I jumped on a plane and came here without telling him."

"And that explains you showing up at my door, with a bag, how?" I ask.

"Well ..." he trails off, suddenly not too keen on looking me in the eye, "I'm not big on staying in the house by myself."

"So what, you wanna stay here?" This is so not happening. God would not be so cruel.

"Just for a couple days. Marco said your roommate was out of town." he says. Oh, I'm gonna kill Marco.

About the time that lovely little thought popped into my head, Craig actually got down on his knees, hands clasped in front of his face, and began pleading with me. "Come on, El. I'm literally out on the street here. Have a little sympathy."

The little smirk that twitched it's way onto my lips was beyond my control. Craig can be such a drama queen at times. "Get up." I say. "Of course you can stay. But if you tell my roommate about it, you're so dead."

Once more on his feet, he's sporting that confused look again. "Why, would it bother her?"

"Only because you're sleeping in her bed." I explain, hastily shoving things, i.e. the box, out of the way in an attempt to make myself not look like such a slob. I spy Craig out of the corner of my eye, looking back and forth between Anne's bed and mine. And he does not appear to be a bit happy. No wonder, my bed is equipped with two foam and one feather matress pads and an abundance of pillows. Anne's however, just has the one standard issue dorm matress that's as hard as a rock and the one pillow. Honestly, I have no clue how the girl gets any sleep.

"Stop looking like that." I tell him. "It's not that bad."

"But your's looks so much softer." he says.

"It is." I assure him. Ha, take that Manning. Oh, do I sound bitter? Cause I'm not. It's just not every day that Craig shows up at my door with a suitcase and a plea to sleep over. It's making the thought process a bit difficult. This has the makings of a potentially delightfully enjoyable situation for me.

Or it would have had I not come out of the bathroom a few minutes later to find Craig stretched out like a cat in MY bed, shoes and all.

"Yeah, this isn't gonna work for me." I say, hands falling onto my hips.

"El, I just flew across the country to find my family gone and now I'm here with a friend that wants me to sleep on a slab of concrete." he babbles. That makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.

"So what, you expect me to sleep in Anne's bed? No way." I cross my arms over my chest to let him know I mean business. "If you don't want to sleep there, I have a perfectly good floor."

His arms were crossed behind his head, but at my idea he removed them and pushed himself up to look at me with that dumbstruck incredulous look of his. "The **floor**!" he demanded. "That'll be really good for my jet lag."

"This is ridiculous." I say. "What are we suppossed to do?"

"You can either try to move me yourself..." I snort at this idea. I can really see little barely over five foot me moving six something him anywhere. "Or," he continues, "we can share."

The heat creeping up my face is my absolute least favorite part of being a redhead. Blushing is so not what I want to be doing right now. It'll make him think all sort of things that aren't true in that arrogant little brain of his. Like that I still like him or that he's cute or something.

"Nice try, but that's a no. I'm not too sure my boyfriend would like that. Or your girlfriend for that matter." Ugh. Just speaking of Manny leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

"Boyfriend?" he whispers.

Suppressing that evil little smile threatening to break across my face, I pluck the strip of pictures of Jesse and me out of my mirror frame and show to him. Is it wrong that some teeny little part of me is getting a kick out the fact that this seems to bother him?

"I didn't know. I'm sorry ... I shouldn't have... " he gets off my bed, shoving the pictures back into my hand and heads for the door, leaving his stuff behind.

"Craig, what are you doing?"

He won't even turn around to look at me. "I don't want to cause any problems for you Ellie. I'll juts go rent a hotel room or something."

"Without your stuff?"

It seems to hit him that he was about to take off without his bag, and he turns to get it. I put a hand on his arm to stop him. "Craig, just because I'm dating someone doesn't mean you can't stay here. You're still my friend."

"Yeah, friend, sure." he mutters. The he finally looks into my eyes. "You sure?"

"Of course." I tell him sincerely. "Just go to sleep."

I crawl into my bed and flick off the bedside lamp. Craig just kind of stands there for a minute, illuminated by the moonlight wafting through the practically useless blinds. He seems to snap out of his trance and toes his shoes off, then his jacket falls onto the floor. He stoops to pull off his socks, and he chesitates slightly. I know what he's thinking, it's so obvious. He's wondering if I'm looking. Hello, it's dark. Yeah he's still standing in the moonlight, but do I have to mention it? Deciding that it's safe, Craig grabs hold of the hem of his shirt and yanks it over his head. Good thing it is dark, I can feel the fact that my face is more red than my hair at the moment. Finally, he undoes his belt and lets his jeans fall to his feet. Jeez, the boy couldn't have brought some pajamas? Then I wouldn't be in the precarious position of checking him out while he has no idea I'm doing it.

He crawls into Anne's bed and starts tossing and turning at once. Shoot. Now I feel bad. Stupid Craig. He did look completely exhausted. I could just ... no, no, that's a bad idea. Horrible. The most idiotic idea EVER. Don't go there Nash.

"Craig." Why don't I ever listen to myself?

"Yeah?" he asks, a trace of irritation in his voice.

"Stop wearing a hole in the matress and get your butt over here."

I am so gonna regret this.

Without a word, Craig bolts out of Anne's bed and is sitting on the edge of mine. I put my hand on his shoulder when he attempts to pull the covers down. "Not so fast." I give him a pillow and inform him to sleep at the foot of the bed. "And keep your feet out of my face."

"You're so generous El." he says sarcastically.

"Keep it up Craig. There's always the floor." He mutters incoherently, but obeys and crawls into the bed. Unable to stop myself, I giggle at the absurdity of the situation. Yes, giggle. But it goes no further. Understood?

"What's so funny?" he asks.

"I told you to get into bed and you were here in half a second. God Manning, I knew you were easy, but that's a little much isn't it?"

"Ha ha." he says dryly.

"Night Craig."

"Night El."

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_**A/N: Not too craxy about the chapter title. Any ideas for a better one?**_


	4. Why Friends Should Stay That Way

Why Friends Should Stay That Way

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My feet are cold. That is the thought that wakes me up at approximately 3:26 in the morning.

Why? Because Craig "The Whole World Revolves Around Me Because I'm A Loveably Idiotic Musician Eventhough I'm A Man-slut Who Happens To Be Insanely Hot" Manning has tossed his share of the covers down to his waist. Meaning that not only am I forced to once more look upon his completely bare chest all aglow in the moonlight, but my feet are entirely exposed to the frigid night air. The heat in this building sucks. Why does he think I have all these blankets on the bed?

Well, two can play this game. Raising up as gently as possible, I grab the end of the covers and toss them back over my feet, warmth immeadiatley flooding through my frozen toes.

And also covering Craig's head. Oh well.

I'm all toasty again and almost asleep when I feel my bunk mate jerk in his sleep and shoot up in the bed. "Ellie!"

"What?" I ask innocently. Then realize it was a mistake, for had I truly been asleep I wouldn't have answered him.

"You're lucky I didn't suffocate." he whined, laying back down and I can hear the sulky pout on his face.

"Please. It was two seconds tops. It's what you deserve for turning my feet into ice cubes." I touch the tips of one foot against his side and he yelps. "Warn a guy before you do something like that."

"Just don't do it again." I say and with that, dream time can resume.

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Unlike the impromptu blanket battle, I wake the second time due to extreme warmth. Too much warmth in fact. And once more it's coming from Craig.

Somehow in the five hours since I woke up the last time, Craig has managed to turn himself around and is snoring softly behind me. Right behind me. I'm facing the wall and that ... that **guy** is actually spooning me! He's got his arm draped casually over my stomach and is blowing soft little fluttery breaths against my hair.

And the absolute worst part of this little situation? I like it. No, scratch that. I'm in heaven right now.

But I have to get up. I have a class at nine and I can't be late. Finals are less than a week away and I have to do well this semester to get into that journalism program next fall.

Lifting his arm, which should so not be that heavy, I manage to crawl out of the bed without killing myself and get dressed in record time, leaving a hasty note for Craig on the mirror.

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If I could have concentrated in class, then maybe the day would have gone okay. But the fact that I kept wishing I were still in bed, with Craig all curled around me, amidst pondering why I had to go and fall for him in the first place, just proved that the day was going to suck beyond measure.

"Miss Nash."

"Huh?" I snap back to rality to find Mr. Renfroe, aka the most evil man alive, looking at me like he wants to string me up for public ridicule in the quad and the rest of the class dead quiet.

"When I asked you why Hemingway chose to end with Brett and Jake not ending up together, I was not looking for 'Craig is a blanket hog' as an answer." he says snottily. Don't know if that's a word, but ti certainly suits him to a tee.

But oh God, did I really say that? Out loud? Kill me now.

"Sorry." I say lamely.

"I don't wish to know the details of your private life Miss Nash. Kindly pay attention next time or don't bother coming to class." he remarks, turning away from me.

Relly, what else could I do but bang my head against my desk?

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The day only got worse. In chem lab I set my notes on fire with the bunsen burner and spilled my latte on my new shirt on my way back to the dorm

Depressed, wet, cold, and seriously ticked I head back to my room. Some tiny part of me is sincerely hoping Craig will be gone when I get there. There is a reason why friends are friends. They're not supposed to ruin your day merely by existing. And they're certainly not supposed to mek you sniff your own hair in class because you can still smell their aftershave and make all your classmates think you're a freak.

All I want to do was crawl under the covers and hide for the rest of the day. I'm even goiing to blow off work. I'll be sick, Jesse will understand.

No such luck. Not two seconds from my door, Carly from down the hall rushes up to me. "Ellie, where did you find him?"

"Who?" I ask, though I already know. Who else **could** it be but Mr. Always Complicates My Life?

"The tall, dark, and handsome hottie you have stashed in your room. Lucky girl. Bet you love when Anne's away." she says, the glint of juicy gossip glittering in her eyes.

"If you mean Craig," I tell her slowly, "he's just a friend. A friend I've known for years with a girlfriend."

"Uh-huh." she says sarcastically. "Then why isn't he satuying with her? And what would your boyfriend say?"

"He would say 'Mind your own business.'" I snap, stalking into my room and slamming the door.

Craig is once again stetched out in perfect contentment on my bed, in his shoes no less, munching away on a bag of Cheetos. "You seriously need to talk to your RA about the variety in your vending machines El." he says lazily.

I snatch the bag out of his hand. "I was gone for three hours and you couldn't stay put?"

"I was hungry!" he cries in defense. I roll my eyes. "Well now my neighbors think I'm having some wild and kinky rendezvous in here behind Jesse's back. Thanks so much."

"Kinky, huh?" he raises his eyebrows in amusement.

"Shut up."

Over at my closet, I grab the first thing I come to and begin to peel off my soaked shirt, then remember I have an audience. An audience that is watching me.

"Don't let me stop you." he says smugly.

"Perv." Lame, I know. But I am beyond flustered here. "Stop staring and turn around."

He obeys and I change in record time. Throwing my hair up hastily, I grab my phone from my bag and hit speed dial 6 for dinner. "I hope you're in the mood for Chinesse." He looks just as unbothered as it's possible to look and shrugs.

"How was your day?" he asks, popping another chip into his orange ringed mouth.

"Horrid. Just so you know, I'm not answering the phone." I inform him.

"Skipping class?"

"Work." I clarify.

"Why Ellie, you've gone and turned into a rebel on me." he says around a mouth full of flourescent mush.

"Gross Craig and by the way, shut up." How many times do I have to tell him that before he gets the hint?

The food comes and we eat, discuss Vancouver, and finally I ask the big question. "Craig, why are you here?"

He has the confuse look again. God, if only that weren't so cute. The he really could just be Friend Craig. "Uh, here as in Toronto or here with you?"

This is going to be fun. Not. "Here as in, not with your girlfriend who, last time I checked, lives right down the street from Joey."

He's giving me this look that says I'm really not going to like this. Damn. Me and my big mouth.

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	5. Emo and Other Cliches

**Emo and Other Cliches**

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I've learned a lot of things about Craig Manning over the past few years. I've learned to never attempt to get him away from his guitar when he's 'in the zone.' To never make light of his disorder or the things he's done because of it. To never underestimate his intentions when it comes to whatever girl he's in love with at the moment.

But most importantly, I've learned that when he's silent ... it's bad. Very, very bad.

"Craig?"

"Do you want to me leave Ellie, is that it?" he finally demands. Okay, he's mad. I pretty much saw that coming. Good thing I've dealt with his drama before.

"No, I don't want you to leave. I want you to be honest with me." I say.

"I came to you because you're my friend and I missed you." he tells me, laying on the big puppy eyes with everything he's got.

"Could've fooled me." I mutter.

"What?"

"Nothing."

That look is plainly saying 'yeah right' but he doesn't push it. Instead, he inhales more Cheetos and looks out the window. Snow is starting to fall and everything looks still and peacful outside. Wish I could say the same for inside.

"In case you forgot, the Simpson-Nelson residence is a little cramped right now. With Manny and )Sean, me bunking there isn't the best idea." he says.

Sean. He had to mention Sean. Clearly, he forgot that I actually loved the guy once and he ditched me only to retutrn a year later to the ever eager arms of the girl he really loves. Gee, the night I found out about him staying at Emma's sure was fun. I'm just thankful Marco took away the ice cream when he did.

"And Jimmy? Marco? Why didn't you stay with one of them?"

He shrugs. Gr, he knows I hate that. It's the non-answer answer. He apparently remembers that because he shakes his head and reluctantly answers. "I don't know. You were the first person that I thought of."

Okay. So did not need to hear that. I'm getting all gooey and sappy on the inside. No. I will not succumb to Craig and his overly charming ways. Not again.

"Whatever Craig," I tell him, desperate to get off this track right now, "don't tell me. I don't care." He starts babbling about soemthing, but I'm already out the door.

Safely ensconsed in the elevator, I finally let the tears out. "God!" I scream, slamming my hand against the wall. I wish I could hate him. So much. Then it wouldn't hurt so bad being around him, wanting him so much, and always being so angry that he just doesn't get it. I slid down the floor, my hands in my hair as I try to clear my thoughts. What did he mean by that? I was the first person he thought of? He comes home to find his family out of town and instead of going to his girlfriend's he goes to see a friend that he chose said girlfriend over, the same friend that he's barely acknowledged since he left after she was the one who convinced him to follow his dreams. What is that?

What am I doing? Why am I sitting here, in an elevator of all places, crying over Craig? Again. How cliched can I possibly get? Here I sit, like some stupid heartsick overindulgent emo ballad come ot life, while he's up in my room, eating Cheetos. Why should I let him get off that easily? I shouldn't. I'm Ellie Nash, tough punk chick. I can do this. I don't need to hide like some ... lovesick girl. Cause I'm not. I'm one seriously ticked off girl.

Two buttons and I'm on my way back upstairs. Someone's got some explaining to do.

...0...0...0...0...0...0...

"All right Manning, you have exactly two minutes to explain yourself." I storm in and stand in front of him with my arms crossed, daring him to defy me.

Craig is just staring up at me from the bed with that blank look of his, Cheeto halfway to his mouth. At my little outburts, he drops it. "Explain what? I thought we went through all of that before your little tantrum."

Excuse me, tantrum? Oh, I'll give him a tantrum all right.

"No. We went through your excuses. Tell me, does Manny even know you're in town?"

"I don't see how that's relevant." he says.

I snort. Yes, snort. Do not judge me here. I've needed to do this for a long time. "So that's a 'no' then, right?"

"What do you want from me Ellie?" Figures he'd sidestep the question. And with an even more loaded one to boot.

"I want you to be honest with me. I think I deserve that much." I tell him softly.

With a deep sigh that sounds like he's exhaling the weight of the world, he sits up on the bed. I sink down beside him, but I don't look at him. I focus on the ugly beige carpeting.

"I didn't tell Manny I was coming to town because I don't want to have to deal with her parading me around an endless series of high school events like some sideshow act. Her rockstar boyfriend." he said sarcastically. "And I didn't want to stay with Marco or Jimmy because it would be almost as bad. They would just ... bombard me with questions and I can't handle that right now."

Okay. Not what I was expecting to hear.

"I thought you would be so excited over your album, you'd never shut up about it. But this is the first time you've actually mentioned it."

"It was ... harder... than I thought it would be." he confessed. I've never heard his voice that small. "There was all this pressure, and everybody knew so much more than I did, and I missed everyone so much ..." he trailed off. Wanting to wrap my arms around him and never let go but knowing I can't, I place my hand on his on his knee. He finally looks up at me, and by now I'm looking back at him. "I came to you because I knew you'd get it. And I knew it would be peaceful with you. No drama, no hassles. Just ... us. Like we used to be."

His words wash over me and I'm falling into those eyes so deeply I doubt I'll ever be able to climb out. They're so rich and warm and inviting and I feel myself getting lost in them as I lean in closer. My eyes flutter shut and I know this is going to change my life.

...0...0...0...0...0...0...

_)Based on season six spoilers. That's right people, I did not make that up._


	6. Hindsight's Curse

**Hindsight's Curse**

...0...0...0...0...0...0...

The thing about life changing moments is that most of the time, you don't even realize they're happening. They sneak up on you and suddenly, you're different. Everything's different. I had one of those moments during 'That Summer.'

The first week of June was uneventful. Get up, go to the set, come home. And that was it. Marco was in Africa, Ash in London, and Alex, oddly enough, was glued to the hip with Paige. It seemed as if I were destined to spend the summer before her senior year with my mom. And that was not something I was looking forward to. And then it happened.

Craig had been all mopey and anti-everything since Ash took off. Now that he was back on his meds, he seemed to not even care if the sun came up in the morning or not. It was as if he only still existed just to finish his song. A part of me wondered what would become of him once it was wrapped. How would he survive the rest of the summer witohut the movie to distract him?

I've kept a lot of secrets in my life. But the one I've never told anyone was that Ash asked me to watch out for Craig that summer. She knew it would be hard on him, her being gone so soon after his diagnosis. So she asked me to kind of keep an eye on him and make sure he was 'dealing.' I think she just wanted me to report on what he said in group and things like that. Which might have happened if Craig had ome to group that first week after his little episode. But he didn't and things changed forever.

When Craig didn't show, I let myself assume the worst and decided to go see if he was okay. Joey answered the door, looking a little suprised that I was there. I'd only met him once, and doubted he even remembered me. But he was polite and told me that Craig was upstairs in his room, third door on the right. He didn't respond when I knocked, so I just went in, braced for the worst.

He was lying on his bed, hands behind his head, gazing blankly up at the ceiling. He made no move to show he even realized I was in the room.

"Craig?"

"I'm fine." he said slowly. "Just didn't feel like going."

I sat down in his desk chair without waiting for the invitation I knew would never come. "Okay."

He eyed me warily. "No lecture? No clever little comments about the evils of ditching group to wallow in my own misery?"

"Nope. You want to waste your time doing nothing it's your business."

He sat up then, looking at me as though he were seeing me for the first time. I could almost hear the words running through his head; _"Is she for real?" _as he pondered whether I was being truthful or not. "So then why are you here?"

I shrugged. "Believe it or not, I consider us to be friends. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Now tha I see you are, I'll just go." I made it all the way to the door before he stopped me.

"I'm not." he said. "Okay. Far from it."

"You want to talk about it?" I asked, not even bothering to turn around first. Because I knew he'd say yes. But he was going to have to make the first move here. Craig had too many girls making it easy for him. This would be good for him.

"Yeah." he finally answered. "I do."

...0...0...0...0...0...0...

Had I known then the kind of emotional hell I was setting myself up for, I would have gone straight home from group that night. But Hindsight's twenty-twenty and all that jazz, and I went to Craig's. And I kept on going back all summer and into the next year untill he was so deeply embedded in me that I couldn't get rid of him. And believe you me, I tried.

That was one moment, one decision, that completely altered my life. And here I am, about to experience another. But it's different this time.

Because this time I can see it coming, and I intend to stop it.

I open my eyes and just I suspedted, Craig is sitting there with his closed, leaning slightly toward me. I feel an ache in my heart unlike any I've ever known, but I know that this is for the best. If we don't learn from the past, then we aren't as smart as we think we are now are we?

Instead of the kiss we were both anticipating, I let my face move to the side, brushin cheek against cheek as I seetle my chin in the crook of his neck. He jolts slightly. A hug wasn't what he was expecting, but he plays it cool as he brings his arms around my waist in a mirror of my own around him.

"Don't tell me you've become a sap on me El." he jokes and just like that the tension of the moment is shattered. In it's place is what it's always been. Just him and me with our quips and our jokes and everything but the truth.

The truth we can't face yet. We're not ready.

I don't respond to his joke. My arms still aorund him I whisper; "I get it."

"Just like I knew you would." he says, pulling back slowly, that ladykiller smile spreading across his lips. All those old feelings rush over me and I shake my head away from the trouble that comes hand in hand with being this close to Craig Manning.

I stand abruptly. "I don't know about you, but I'm beat."

"Yeah, I guess." He stands too, cleaning his garbage off my bed and pulling the covers down. It's the first time I've noticed that he actually made my bed. Will wonders never cease?

I head to the bathroom to change into my pajama bottoms and tee shirt, I realize that what I said to Craig was the truth. I'm beat. I'm worn out. Exhausted. So sick and tired of this little dance we do and everything involved in it and the drama of tonight and what it means.

I'm not over Craig. I know that now. I've pretended for way too long that it was all behind me. But the fact of the matter is that I have a boyfriend who's sweet and smart and adores me and I'm ignoring him to hang out with my high school crush and play these weird little games and pretend that the outside world isn't happening. But it is, and sooner or later we're going to have to face it. And face that pesky little truth we keep sidestepping around.

I'm just not ready to do it yet.

...0...0...0...0...0...0...

_**A/N: The spoiler I was referring to was Sean staying with Emma. Happens late in the season, but it has been confirmed.**_


	7. Tis the Season for Confessions

_**A/N: I seriously debated whether or not to put this chapter up because it seems like the interest in this story is falling. If you guys want me to continue, please let me know.**_

...0...0...0...0...0...0...

Tis the Season for Confessions

...0...0...0...0...0...0...

"So, what do you want to do today?" Craig asks brightly the next morning. We've been up for about an hour, eating Coco Puffs and watching Bugs Bunny elude Elmer Fudd for the millionth time. I look out the window. Snow was still coming down pretty steadily, if lightly.

"How about nothing."

"Oh come on El, we have the entire weekend with nothing to do." he says.

"Craig, in case you hadn't noticed, it's snowing outside. I'd rather just stay in."

"It's not like you're gonna melt." he teases, then laughs when I scowled at him. "Please? I need help picking out presents."

"Presents? I hate Christmas shopping." I whine.

"Even if I promise to buy you all the coffee and big cookies you can handle?"

Okay, that's low. But effective. I'm beaten and I know it. So I agree and head off to the shower. When I come back Craig is standing in front of my closet, shaking his head.

"What?"

"Do you ever think that maybe you wear too much black?" he asks, eyeing me head to toe. I feel the blush creeping up my face as he takes in my black shirt and jeans so dark they may as well be black. And we both know the belt, shoes, and jewelry are going to be the same hue.

"Like you should talk." I retort. Craig took a shower earlier and is now wearing a black Beattles tee and black Converse sneakers along with his ever present black leather jacket.

"Fair enough." he says as he flops onto my bed while I dry my hair and put my make up on. He just ... sits there watching me. And it's really unnerving me. There's something about him seeing me getting ready. It's almost ... intimate in a way. "Stop watching me freak. It's creeping me out." The tone of my voice is harsher than I intended it to be and I notice Craig frowning in the mirror.

"Scuse me." he mutters.

"Ah, didn't mean to hurt your poor little feelings. I know how sensitive musicians can be."

He glares at me before sticking his lower lip out in a pout and I know he's not really mad.

"So," I say as he continues to lay sprawled out on my bed, "are we going or what?"

...0...0...0...0...0...0...

I hate the mall. It just ... cheery. All these kids hyped up on sugar and these girls wearing next to nothing while they try to pretend they're not there to attract all the loser guys trying to act all cool. It's like high school times fifty with lots and lots of candy.

Craig knows this. Yet, he still insisted we come here when there are many nice, quiet, and music free stores downtown. He says he can't find the doll Angie wants anywhere else. He's only been in town for two days! When did he even look? Do I sound angry? Maybe just a little seeig as some Britney wannabe just spilled her extra foam mocha diet whatever all over me and them claimed it was my fault! If Craig hadn't been there to sweet talk her, I might have been forced to pull a Paige/Manny smackdown right here in Toys'RUs.

"I think it's time we got you home." Craig said, steering me toward the exit.

Thank God. I'm not sure how much more holiday cheer I can stomach. I may punch the next Santa I see.

"Well, looks like I got everything." Craig says, peering through his bags. "Joey, Diane, Angie, Marco, Jimmy... "

"Manny?" I supply. Ew, why did I say that? Now I'm gonna actually have to help him pick out something for her.

"Right." Craig said, like he didn't actually forget. What's that about?

We're walking by this little vendor cart that sells stuffed animals and knick knacks and he just grabs this snowglobe off it. "Here we go."

"Sure you don't want to think about it a little more?" I ask sarcastically. I may not like Manny, but no girl deserves to have her boyfriend give her some random gift he just happened to see.

"What?" He sounds genuinely confused. Looking down at the trinket in his hand, his brow creases in worry. I study it and realize, it's actually kind of perfect for her. All pink and sparkly and full of teddy bears and a castle on the inside. Thought or no, Manny would love it.

"Nothing." I say. "I'm sure she'll love it."

He grins and pays for it and that's when it hits me. Craig didn't have to go on this long, drawn out search for the perfect present because he knows Manny well enough to just catch a glimpse of somehing and know she would like it. And this is the moment I know, my chance with Craig is never gonna happen.

I can feel the tears about to errupt, and I hate crying so much, so I turn away and pretend to be absorbed in some palmestry book on the shelf while Craig pays for his perfect present.

"Ready? he asks.

"Um, sure." I put the book back hastily, averting his gaze. But it doesn't work and he's holding my chin up to face him.

"Ellie, what's wrong?" The real concern is more than I can take and I either have to admit it, or cover it up. I shake my head, having dcided to cover it up. Was there ever any doubt?

"Nothing, just that stupid book." I gesture to the palmestry guide and laugh. "Apparently I'm supposed to be a suburban soccer mom in a pink house." I tell him. "Can you imagine anything more horrible?"

"Maybe one or two things." he says, obviously not buying my story for a second. "I know what this is about."

My head snaps up. "You do?"

"Yeah, and don't worry," he puts and arm around my shoulder and pulls me against him as we hed again for the exit, "I already have your present safely tucked away. Like I'd ever forget you El."

There's no way to dsecribe just how much that hurts so I do the only thing I can do. I cover up my aching heart with the false bravado that's gotten me through many a Craig-induced mope fest.

"Like there was ever a worry about that. You know I'm the most unforgetable person in your life."

"Too true." he says with a dramatic sigh reminescient of Marco and I shove him playfully. He pulls me back to my previous location at his side, my arm slipping around his waist naturally.

This is so wrong. How right it feels. So very wrong. Craig's not free and neither am I, no matter how much my heart is telling me otherwise. A thought I'm acutely aware of every time I think of him or hear his name. One that I'm reminded of yet again as we round the corner and face the last two people I want to see right now.

Manny. And Sean.

"Craig!" Manny says in disbelief. Her eyes narrow into slits as she takes in my presence and Craig's and my arms around one another. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, shopping?" he tries, holding up his bags in a lame attempt to prove his story.

"I meant in Toronto. Why didn't you tell me you were in town?" she accuses angrily. The real quesetion is glaringly obvious as she continues to stare daggers at me; What is Craig doing with me?

While my arm has returned to its rightful place by my side, Craig's remains perched across my shoulders and as Manny continues her death stare, I twitch my shoulders in effort to get him to move it. A catfight with an anonymous high school hoochie is one thing, but to fight with one I actually know is totally different.

Craig seems to notice Sean for the first time. I almost feel sorry for him, he looks completely lost as he gazes between Manny and Craig. He's clutching a bag from a jewelry store in his hand and I feel my day plummet further. He's shopping for Emma. Great. Just what I need, another reminder of how easily the guys I like move on to other girls.

"Sean, hey man. I heard you were back in town." Craig's arm finally drops as he shakes Sean's hand.

"Yeah," Sean says uncertainly. "Just doing some shopping."

"Craig, can I talk to you a minute?" Manny all but demands.

He shrugs, offering an apologetic look back at me, before they head off to the little alcove by the pop machines. Instantly, Manny begins her tirade, hands flailing and face contorted in rage.

"So ..." Sean says. I had almost forgotten he was here.

"How are you?" I ask. "I heard through Jimmy that you got into some trouble a while back. You okay?"

No, I'm not totally heartless. It's true that I would love for Emma to dump him and give him the poetic justice he deserves, but I did love the guy once. I still care if he's in trouble.

"Yeah, I'm good. Everything kinda worked itself out." he says.

"I'm gald. How's Emma?"

He swallows. "She's fine. Listen Ellie," he starts but I cut him off.

"It's okay Sean. It really is. You love her. There's no need to explain. Or to apologize. I'm not angry anymore."

"Really?" he asks dubiously. Honestly, you'd think he'd trust me after everything we went through.

"I was for a while. But I got over it." I assure him.

"I can see that." He remarks, tossing a look over at Craig and Manny and their little drama-rama.

"What Craig? No, we're just friends." I explain hastily.

"Then why is Manny so upset?"

I can't answer that. And he knows it. Judging by the sympathetic look in his blue eyes he knows it all too well.

Just then Manny stalks by, grabbing Sean by the hand and tugging him away.

Craig looks totally dejected when he comes back. I'll bet good money that it was nasty. We are talking about Manny Santos after all.

"You look like you just got hit by a truck."

"Manny just dumped me." he says with absolutely no emotion. Could he be in shock?

"For not telling her you're in town? Why didn't you use some of that famous Manning charm and convince her that you wanted it to be a surprise?"

Craig sinks down onto a nearby bench and looks up at me sadly. "I didn't want to lie to her."

Okay. Not expecting a confession like that. I sit beside him, trying to think of a way to comfort him when he speaks again.

"She didn't like the fact that I was with you." he whispers.

Now I'm really not liking where this is going.

"Manny's terrified of you." He says like it's so bizzare and out there he just can't seem to wrap his head around it.

"Me?" I ask suspiciously. "Why would she ever be afraid of me? W're just friends, it's not like I'm planning to jump you anytime soon."

He smiles at that and mission accomplished. Craig's allright, so the world's right again.

"I have a confession to make." I lean over and whisper conspiratorally. "I hate malls."

"This is something I already knew Miss Nash." he replies.

"So how about we head out? Bad Thai take-out on me."

"Sounds like a plan." He gathers up his stuff and we leave, all thoughts of Manny and confessions and the now useless snowglobe forgotten. We'll deal with them later. Like we do everything.

But you want to know the real confession? We never do. We just say that so we don't have to face anything. Our shrinks would be so proud.


	8. Untitled

...0...0...0...0...0...0...

**Untitled**

...0...0...0...0...0...0...

"Okay, truth or dare."

I look over at Craig, trying to make it very clear to him that I think he's lost his mind. "No."

"Ah, come on El. I'm seriously bored here." He throws a piece of popcorn at the window and we both watch as it bounces into the pencil cup on Anne's desk.

I steal a handful of popcorn from the bowl."Tough. This isn't third grade and I'm not Marco. Think of something else."

Craig is sitting on the floor, leaning back against m bed and I'm stretched out on it. The whole mall drama really took it's toll on our day, and we've just been lounging around in couch potato heaven ever since. Molly Ringwald is crying over Jake Ryan on the screen, but neither of us have been paying attention.

"Hm, strip poker?" he tries.

I whack the back of his head playfully. "Try again."

"Hot oil massage?"

"Is everything about sex with you?" I demand.

"Pretty much."

I laugh. This is exactly what I needed the week before finals. To destress and forget about everything. That's one thing Craig is good for. He always manges to make me forget about the horrible, crappy things going on in my life at the moment and just ... get away.

"So what do you want to do?" he asks absently, picking at the carpet.

"Body shots?" I say sweetly.

"Now there's an idea."

"Dream on." I say.

"Oh I will."

With a blush I'm thrilled he can't see, I hit him again.

"What? You suggested it." he said defensively.

As if on cue, the phone starts to ring. Since it's laying on the floor by Craig's feet, he picks it up and answers it without hesitation. "Ellie's phone." He pauses, brow wrinkling in confusion. "Hello?"

I satch it out of his hand. "Hello?"

"Who was that?" Jesse's voice is low and gruff and the tone is one that I've never heard him use before.

"Jesse, hey." Craig's head shoots up and he gives me this sheepish, apologetic look. Aw. Hard to be mad at him when he looks so cute.

"I reapeat, who was that?"

I sigh. Jealous boyfriend are so cliche and overrated. "That was a friend of mine. Craig. I've told you about him." I say, trying to keep my voice calm and sound rational.

Craig's phone begins to ring then and he motions that he's gonna take it out in the hallway. Once the door shuts, I turn my attention back to Jesse who has been talking the whole time while I neglected to listen.

"Jesse," I say, hoping he won't notice my lack of attention, "Craig is just a friend."

"You know what I've noticed?" he says. "Whenever people are really friends, they say they're friends. Adding the just means they're either in denial or lying."

Wow. That is so ... acurate.

"Judging from your silece, I'd say I'm right." he says slowly.

"What do you want me to say Jesse? That nothing has ever happened with Craig? It hasn't. Just because I had a little thing for him in high school doesn't mean anything."

"If that were true you wouldn't have blown off work for the last three days."

"I'll talk to you after you've cooled down." I tell him abruptly and hang up. Immature I know, but I could just feel that he was about to ask the question. Whether the thing as I so eloquently put it was gone.

And I don't want to lie to him.

Craig comes back in, looking slightly apprehensive.

"What is it?"

"That was Joey. He's home." he states simply.

"Oh."

What am I suppossed to say to that? It means he's leaving. No more playing house or whatever the hell we're doing could be called. And you know what? It sucks.

"Yeah." Craig says. "I told him I'd be home tomorrow."

Tomorrow. Meaning we still have tonight to be goofy and pretend that nothing is wrong.

Yay.

...0...0...0...0...0...0...

"Craig, be still."

I swear I'd hit him if I could. But from this angle, my hand would land in a very delicate location.

"I can't sleep." he whines.

"So that means I can't either?"

"Do you want me to suffer alone? Or would you rather help me through it?"

"Alone is sounding pretty good to me right now."

"Nice." he says sarcastically.

"Well what can I do, sing you a lullaby?"

"Please don't. I've heard you sing." he quips.

"Then I'm open to suggestions. Unlike you, some of us actually need our beauty sleep."

"Are you saying I'm ugly or hot?" he asks in disbelief.

"I plead the fifth."

"Well then, I know one way you could put me to sleep." he says, a mischevious edge coming to his voice and once more I'm glad for the cover of night so he won't see my scarlet cheeks.

"Put you to sleep? I didn't know that was an option." I joke.

He fake laughs loudly. "Funny El."

"I know what you're implying, and no. There are plenty of horny sorority girls on campus. Go bug one of them." I roll over, facing the wall and turning my back on him. I need to sleep.

"But you're so much fun. None of them could insult me so cleaverly." He begins to tickle the back of my knees where my pajama bottoms have riden up slightly.

I squeal. Yes, squeal. No judging. Rolling back over quickly, I whack him wherever I can reach. "Stop it or it's the floor for you Manning."

"Are you gonna push me off the bed? I'd like to see you try." he says smugly.

Hey, I may be small, but I'm strong. So I do the only thing I can do. I push him. Hard.

He lands on the floor with a satisfying thump and a very loud grunt.

"That was a rhentorical question." he snaps as he crawls back onto the bed. "And that really hurt."

"Ah, poor baby."

"Anybody ever tell you you're slightly evil?" he asks, burrowing back into his spot on the bed.

"Once or twice." I tell him. "I'm sorry."

"Me too." he says. Good. At least he acknowledges that the whole thing wasn't my fault.

"Go to sleep."

...0...0...0...0...0...0...

Craig insists I go with him to Joey's the next morning. Not really my idea of fun. Yeah, Joey's okay and Angie's a sweetie, but it means that Craig's leaving. Yeah, I'm sulking. Do you blame me?

"Ho ho ho." Craig calls, shutting the oor behind us.

"Craig!" Angie screams. She rushes into the living room and jumps on her big brother. I can't help but smile. They're so cute together.

Joey and Diane come out, taking turns hugging Craig hello. Needless to say, I'm more than a little suprised when Diane also hugs me.

"Hey Ellie. Long time no see." Joey says. He doesn't hug me though. That would be way too weird. Angie does. Quickly though and then runs back to Craig, who wraps his arms around her protectively. They're just looking at each other and you can see the love and similarities in that gaze.

I feel myself getting all sappy again and I hear a slight giggle. I glance over at Diane to see her looking at me with a knowing smile as I stare at Craig and Angie. I school my features quickly, and she smirks at me. I can feel the heat creeping up my face.

"You alright Ellie? You look a bit flushed." Joey says.

"Y-yeah." My voice cracks a bit, so I clear my throat. "I'm fine."

It's obvious that he doesn't believe me, and Craig is looking at me like I'm insane, but I just smile like everything's okay.

"Ellie, would you like to help me and Angie make cookies?" Diane asks.

I am so getting her a present. "I'd love to."

"Great." Joey says. "Then Craig can help me get the tree inside."

"Ah, Joey ..." he whines.

The rest of the day is more of the same. We cover Joey's kitchen in flour and Craig gets a splintre fromt he massive tree Joey bought, but it seems so much like one of those annoying Christmas specials that I would gag if it weren't absouletly perfect. It' night before I know it and raig walks me out to my car while Joey tucks Angie in.

"Today was fun. Almost like high school again." he says offhandedly.

"Yeah."

"Hey," Craig's voice is full of concern and it just makes everything harder, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just gonna seem kind of lonely at the dorm now."

"You wanna stay here tonight?" he offeres. "Joey wouldn't mind and Anige would love it."

"Thanks, but no. I'll just go crash at Marco's or something." I tell him.

With a small wave, I get into my car before he can try to talk me out of it. I watch him grow smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. I meant what I said, it will be lonely without him there tonight. I've gotten used to him being there. Just like school sucked pretty hard for a few weeks after he left for Vancouver. But I'll see him at Joey's party tomorow. Then I have to spend three days with my parents and he goes back to the other side of the country. Joy.

Is it any wonder I hate Christmas?


	9. Assigning Blame

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**Assigning Blame**

...0...0...0...0...0...0...

I'm not going to Marco's. I just told Craig that so he wouldn'r insist on my staying there. Sleeping on Joey's couch just to be closer to Craig, could I get any more pathetic?

I'm back at the dorms, going through that box again. You know, if I had any self respect left I really would just toss the thing in the nearest incinerator.

Okay, being that Christmas is usually considered one of the most depressing times of the year, given the high suicide rate and all, I think it's time I decide exactly what kind of hold Mr. Craig Manning has over me anyway.

What is it about him that made me fall so hard? Besides the obvious of course. The obvious being that he's tall dark and gorgeous and just happens to be an incredible musician. How cliche, I fell for the old boy with a guitar schtick. I am so disappointed in myself.

But despite that, I didn't fall for Craig because of those things. They certainly don't hurt, but come on, I am not that shallow. Besides, that's who Craig was when he was just my best friend's boyfriend. When he cheated on her and broke her heart and I hated him on girl principle alone. When they got back together and I reluctantly became his friend because of her, because of Marco.

No. I know what it was. It was Ash forcing us together through group. She was the one who betrayed his confidence and told me he was sick. She was the one who convinced him to go to group in the first place, not knowing I was going to be there. She's the one who neglected to tell me she was sending him there, to hear all about my little secret. It was her that insisted I go over ot his house and talk him into coming back with the whole 'everyone needs someone' line. It was her that up and left and guilted me into playing nursemaid. It was her that broke his heart and saddled me with taking the blame.

That's it, it's all Ash's fault. She told me time and time again how Craig just had this pull and yet she still left me alone with him. Wench.

Okay, okay. I know I can't legitimately blame it on Ash. Not all of it anyway. True, she did get us spending time together in te beginning. But after that can't really be attributed to her.

Like it or not, Craig and I are kindred. We're more alike in ways that have nothing to do with Ash, Marco, music, or even being sick. We think like. We fight alike. Hell we even feel alike; privately and way down deep. We're secretive, self-destructive people who brood too much and like to place blame.

Just bloody perfect.

So there you have it folks. I am insanely in love with Craig Manning because in his own little mixed-up Craig way, he's just like me. He's like, my other half.

Dear God, did I really just say that? Shoot me now, I'm stealing lines from overly sacharine pedestrian chick flicks.

You know what? Love sucks. It turns you into an idiot and makes you do things you would normally never do in your rational mind. Like throwing drumsticks at albeit somewhat skanky girls who are really doing nothing they're not being encouraged to do.

That's who to blame. That little sadist known as Cupid. It's all his fault.

And hey, if hormones had some cartoonesque poster child, they could be held accountable as well.

...0...0...0...0...0...0...

I hear knocking. At seven a.m. When I don't have to be up for class until eleven. Somebody is going to die.

Half asleep, I stumble over and fling the door open. Craig and Marco are standing there, and if they weren't holding coffee, I would render each of them sterile.

"You're lucky I don't get homicidal until after noon." I tell them, turning and heading back to my bed. They follow, Marco griping about having to close the door.

I burrow back into my bed and Craig sits dwon beside my feet. "Craig, I do have chairs." I wave my arms toward the two, count em two, desk chairs in the room. Why must he continually do this to me?

"What can I say, I got used to your bed." he says mischeviously and Marco cackles from his perch upon Anne's bed.

"Jerk." Sorry, but I'm not at my best in the mornings. "Either give me caffeine or go away."

Craig hands me a cup and I sip it gratefully. I may give Craig a hard time, but he always manages to get my coffee just the way I like it.

"So El," Marco begins as he sips his own beverage, "I hear you were supposed to come over last night. What gives?"

I give Craig the evil eye that used to intimidate people, but he shrugs it off. "I can't believe you ratted me out."

"I wouldn't have had to if you hadn't lied to me." he says.

Oh, that's low.

"You woke me up at this un-Godly hour for a lecture? There's a really nasty name I could call you both right now, but I'm too much of a lady to say that word in mixed company." I mutter. This of course prompts more peels of laughter.

"What exactly do you two want anyway?" I ask.

"There's a wicked concert downtown tonight and you have to come with us." Marco explains.

I shake my head. "No can do. I've got the first of my finals in the morning. Nothing like partying till dawn to ensure a failing grade."

"Come on El, no one said anything about dawn." Craig crawls over to were I'm still aying under the covers and begins nuzzling at my ear. "Please."

"Stop it. That tickles." It does other stuff too, but like I said, I'm too much of a lady to say it.

"Tickle. Now there's an idea." he quirks his eyebrows at me, hands raised and poised to launch an assault on me. Marco is, as usual, being of no help whatsoever.

"Fine. I'll go. But I have to be back by midnight. No exceptions." I agree.

"Yes Cinderella." Craig remarks.

"That's Cinderscrooge." Marco says, pointing to the 'Death to Santa' screensaver flashing on my computer.

"Go away so I can sleep." I mumble, closing my eyes to pretned they are no longer here.

"Aye-aye Scrooge." Marco quips before exiting.

"Ho ho." Craig whispers in my ear as he climbs off the bed.

"Yes, you are." I shoot back.

I can feel the dirty look he's giving me and smirk in response. He merely scoff and heads on out.

It's almost too easy.

...0...0...0...0...0...0...


	10. An Unexpected Gift

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An Unexpected Gift

...0...0...0...0...0...0...

The concert, for lack of a better word, sucked.

I can't even remember the name of the band. Craig met them in Vancouver and swore they put on an amazing live show. If a list of halfway forgotten covers counts as awesome, then it rocked. But it doesn't, and they didn't.

So we ended going for pizza and watching some Bollywood DVD of Marco's for the zillionth time.

Upside, I was home in time to study. Downside, I think I may written 'popcorn' somewhere in my definition of cold fusion. Eh, I'll still pass. Marco makes a great tutor, he's the only thing that's gotten me through so far.

Now I'm getting ready for Joey's Christmas party. And in some weird way, it feels like getting ready for my first date. And that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. Especially given that Dylan is picking me up so we can meet Marco and head over together.

Sometimes I really don't understand myself. Why would I want to torture myself by hanging out with a houseful of people I don't know swilling eggnog like there's no tomorrow?

Yeah, like I don't already know the answer to that one.

…0...0...0...0...0...0...

The party is exactly like I expected. A bunch of people, most of them middle aged, dancing around, grinning like out of season jack o' lanterns while I hide from Joey's drunk cousin who keeps trying to hit on me.

"Hey Grinch." Craig whispers in my ear from behind.

I whirl around and burst in laughter at the sight of Craig standing there in a Santa hat and the goofiest grin I've ever seen.

"I have an idea that may put a smile on that pretty little humbug face of yours." Craig grins at me mischievously and I can't help but return it. Craig's infectious when he's all happy and silly like this.

"What might that be?" I ask playfully.

"Present time." He holds a box up in front of me, silver with a huge black ribbon dotted with red and green stars. More stars. But at least the color palette's not that bad.

"Craig," I whine, "Christmas isn't until tomorrow."

He releases his breath in exasperation of my un-cheeriness. "I cant wait. Open it now. Please?"

With that he all but shoves it in my face. And he's still giving me that grin, so I have no choice but to gave in.

"Fine, but you have to open mine first."

"Deal." See, told you he was easy.

While I fetch his gift from under the tree (I stashed it here last week) I catch Joey's eye and he smiles at me.

When I give Craig the shiny blue package, he shakes it vigorously like a little kid. Eyeing me suspiciously, he rips the foil away.

"A CD." He sounds less than enthused, but Ican fix that.

"It's a DVD actually. It was Joey's idea. He found these and asked me to restore them and put them on there for you. I thought he should have been the one to give it to you, but he insisted I do it."

"DVD. Of what?" He's turning the disc over in his hands like he can unlock the secret merely by staring hard enough.

"Some old home movies he found. Of you and Angie … and your mom." I tell him.

Craig's entire demeanor changes right then. He looks up at me, face devoid of emotion, and says slowly, "My mom?"

Uh-oh. "I thought you'd like it, Craig, I never meant to upset you. I'm so sorr -"

My words are cut off by Craig throwing his arms around me and squeezing so tight I think he's about to cut off my circulation.

"Ellie," his voice is thick with emotion and he sounds dangerously close to crying, "this is the best gift I've ever gotten. Thank you so much."

Okay, the sappiness is about to set in. Should I stop it? Nah. It is Christmas after all.

"I'm glad." I whisper in his ear, letting my feelings get the better of me. I can hear the affection in my own voice, but Craig doesn't hear it. Sigh, he never disappoints.

"Okay, my turn."

Craig composes himself and hands me the box he held up earlier.

I begin removing the ribbon when he suddenly stops me. "Don't open that."

"Why not?"

"Because my present isn't half as great as yours. I feel silly now giving it to you."

Aw, sometimes he can actually be pretty sweet. "Craig …"

"I mean it. Yours was so … he looks down at the disc still clutched in his hand, "perfect. There's no way mine can even compare."

"Tough." I rip the paper off before he can protest further and become very, very confused. Why would Craig get me this?

"Palmistry?" I give him a look which I hope conveys my confusion, because I should probably get it.

"You seemed really into it at the mall." he said sheepishly.

Oh right. This is the look I pretended to read before the Manny debacle.

Hang on.

"I thought you said you'd had mine for weeks." I raise a suspicious eyebrow at him, daring him to lie to me.

"I did." he answers quickly. "I just thought you would like that."

Now I notice that there's something sticking out of the top, between the pages. I open it to find …

A plane ticket?

"Before you say anything," Craig says quickly, "it's a night flight, so you won't loose any sleep. And since your finals are over, there's really no reason to say no."

"You want me to come to Vancouver?" This is beyond bizarre.

"I've been dying to tell you, to tell everybody, but I wanted to wait until I gave you this. I'm going on tour before the CD is released. All of Canada and the US for six months."

"Craig, that's incredible!" I throw my arms around him, forgetting the fact that he probably has other tickets for Marco, Jimmy, Joey, Angie, Diane, maybe even Manny, tucked away in his suitcase. Forgetting that he just told me he's going to be out on the road for half a year. Forget all of that. Right now the only thing that matters is the fact that he told me first.

Hey, I'm the one that talked him in to going to Vancouver in the first place. I should get to see the fruits of my labor before the rest.

"Really?"

I shake my head at the skepticism in his voice. "Of course. And I would love to come visit before you leave. It'll be fantastic. And Marco will love it-"

"Whoa El," he cuts me off with a confused look, "you're not getting me here."

Huh?

"I'm not?"

"No. I'm not asking you and Marco to come visit me before I leave."

"You're not?"

He shakes his head, the smile that's beginning to break across his features throwing me off. But the next words out of his mouth bring me the realization crashing down on me.

"I want you, only you, to come to Vancouver. But not for a visit. I want you to come on tour with me."

…0...0...0...0...0...0...


	11. Out Of The Box

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Out Of The Box

…0...0...0...0...0...0...

Under any other circumstances, the look on Craig's face when I shove the ticket back at him would be priceless.

Now it's just the final twist of the knife.

He honestly expected me to jump for joy and hop on the plane without a thought. Can he be any more arrogant?

"El, what's wrong?" He grabs my arm to stop me from leaving. Hard enough to leave bruises.

"What's wrong?" I laugh bitterly. "Your gigantic ego, that's what's wrong." I jerk my arm from his grasp and glare at him.

"Okay, I don't know what I did to upset you, so just tell me so I can fix it." he says. By now we're starting to draw attention from a few of the other guests, so he once again takes hold of my arm and propels me toward the stairs.

"Craig, let me go."

"No." he backs me up against the wall, placing a hand on either side of me to block me in.

"Craig."

"No."

This is getting us nowhere. Craig is the stubbornest person I've ever met. Yes, I know it's not a real word. But when dealing with a nut like Craig, it's okay to use words that aren't well, words.

"Craig, if you don't let me go right now, I'm never speaking to you again." I tell him slowly.

"You're not leaving," he says as he leans his face closer to mine, "until you tell me what I did to make you thins upset."

A deep, calming breath is in order to calm my nerves. Too bad it doesn't work. But Craig's a lot bigger than me, not to mention way stronger. I'm not getting away from him unless he's cooperative. And let's be honest here, how often does that happen?

Oh, right. Never. It's part of his annoying charm.

"Did you stop and think before you decided on that particular gift?"

Instead of an answer, which we all know is a big, fat 'no,' his mouth drops open and he says, "Ellie, it's not like I'm giving you some ugly sweater or cheap perfume here. It's you and me-on the road. Making music like we dreamed of."

"Have you always been this dense and I just never noticed? " Seriously, the boy is clueless.

"What are you talking about? Ellie, we spent a year talking about doing exactly this." he exclaims and his hands finally leave the wall.

I take my chance and head for the door. But of course, he takes hold of my hand. And there are those damn butterflies. Grr. I really hate him sometimes.

I allow him to pull me closer by my hand. "Ellie," he whispers, "please tell me why you're so upset. I thought this was what you wanted."

"I want to write Craig," I say, "I thought you knew that." I pull away, and by now I'm at the door. "I thought you knew me."

He throws his hands up in defeat. We're in plain view of the parry now and I can see Marco and Joey tossing worried glances over at us. "Then why did we make all those plans if music wasn't something you wanted?"

God, I think my heart actually just shriveled up inside my chest. I can't believe after everything that we've been through he honestly doesn't get it. Maybe he never got it. I'm not sure if that makes it better or worse.

Shaking my head sadly, I do the only thing I can. I turn back to him and tell him, "It was never about the music, Craig. Not for me."

I wonder if his jaw hurt falling on the floor like that. At least he knows now. And I can get on with my life.

…0...0...0...0...0...0...

The one thing I'm proud of about tonight is that I mange to get all the way inside my room before the tears start falling. I hate crying. It's such a pathetic, girly thing to do. But it's not really something you can help when it feels like there's a piece of your soul missing.

Jeez, how lame did that sound?

But it's accurate. I've built so much up around Craig that I realize just how empty my life actually is without him. Cause we can't go back to where we were before, not after tonight. We can't take what was said, put it in some little box and just ignore it.

Speaking of boxes…

I get my box down from the top of my closet and do what I should have done a year ago-I throw it into the garbage. That feels better. I can practically feel the weight rising off me. Yeah, it was sweet. Probably the best gift I've ever gotten, but in keeping it I'll just be reminding myself of Craig and then I'll never be able to move on.

That's why I can't stay in this room another minute. I've lived here for months, but as I look around the familiar setting all I see is Craig.

Craig lounging on the floor while he watches t.v.

Craig tossing Skittles at me from behind Anne's desk chair.

Craig trying to gross me out by downloading porn on my computer only to discover there was a school wide block.

Craig curled up sound asleep in my bed.

He's everywhere. How sad is that?

I jerk my suitcase down and start throwing clothes into it. I have to be out by the end of the week and my mom wants me to come by more often. She'll love it that I'm home three days early.

The photos and books can wait. I've got everything that matters. And that box is definitely where it belongs. In the trash, in the past.

…0...0...0...0...0...0...

"You are such a drama queen sometimes." Marco announces as he waltzes through my front door the next day.

"Hi, Pot. Guess that makes me Kettle." I quip.

"I'm being serious here El." Marco plops down on the couch. "Craig was really upset when you left."

"I bet." I say and sit next to him.

"Okay, you've always been a little on the cynical side, but when did you get this bitter? Craig asked you to go on tour with him!" Marco exclaims loudly. I'm suddenly very glad my mom isn't home. More so than usual.

I get up and head for the kitchen. Coffee is calling my name. "Well, he's just gonna have to find someone else to be his groupie."

"You really think that's what this is about?" Of course he followed me.

I sip the hot liquid gratefully. Marco in action can only be handled with a caffeine buffer.

"No," I tell him, "it's about Craig wanting someone tagging along to tell him how great he is and take care of him."

"El, what's this really about? I know you want to go with him or you wouldn't be so upset."

I whirl on him, my anger getting the better of me. "Of course I want to go with him, Marco! I want to go so bad it was all I could do not to grab him and drag him to the airport the second he said he wanted me to come. But if I go then I'm gonna be throwing away every shred of dignity I managed to build up while he was gone."

Marco shakes his head. "I'm so lost here." Poor boy. Straight people drama must be so hard on him. "You want to go, but you can't because you think you'll be sacrificing your dignity?"

"Craig's been here less than a week and I've already humiliated myself in class and lost my boyfriend. I have to save something." I say.

"Hang on," he waves his hands in the air to stop me, "you and Jesse broke up?"

"I think so. He called and Craig answered my phone. He wasn't that happy about it."

Marco steps over in front of me, titling my chin up to look at him and not my coffee cup. "Ellie, tell me honestly, why is this such a bad thing?"

"Marco, he never gave a single thought to what this would mean for me. I have an entire life here and he thinks I can just abandon it because he asks me to? What if I do go with him? That means leaving school, my job, my family … you." I smile at him weakly. He returns it and hugs me tightly.

"I get it," he whispers in my ear. "But you pulled a Pandora last night El. You as much as admitted your feelings to Craig. You let the monster out of the box. Either deal with him or turn him lose. But you can't put him back in."

"Have I ever told you how much I hate you when you're right?"


	12. Unlikely Sources

_**A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to get this up. I feel like my brain just kind of fizzled out on this story. But I'm almost done, there's one more chapter after this and it should be up sometime in the next few days.**_

…0...0...0...0...0...0...

Unlikely Sources

…0...0...0...0...0...0...

The last person I expected to see on my doorstep two days before New Years was Jesse.

But yet here he is, standing on my parent's porch in the freezing cold, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else on the planet.

"What are you doing here?" I ask as he walks inside. Without an invitation I might add.

"Nice," he snaps, "I haven't heard from you in over a week. I just wanted to make sure you were still alive."

He moves to walk past me, but I stop him with a hand on his arm. His eyes are focused on the floor, and I watch as the muscles in his jaw clench rhythmically as he swallows roughly.

"Jesse, I'm sorry. This thing …" My voice trails off uncertainly. How do I explain something as weird and complicated and messy as Craig and I to him when I know there's no way he can possibly understand?

"You mean this Craig guy?" Jesse's voice is low, bitter. I've hurt him and I hate myself for it. Oddly enough, I hate him for making me feel this way. I wanted Craig before I ever knew Jesse. What right does he have to make me feel guilty?

With a sigh, I flop down onto the couch. This is so not what I want to be doing right now. I'd much rather be upstairs, in my old bed, wallowing in my misery that Craig is leaving tonight and has made no effort to contact me since Joey's party. I guess I was right about him and me all along. Now that he knows for sure how I feel about him, he's running scared.

Jesse comes over and sits down beside me, and far enough away on the couch to make it make it uncomfortable. "So, is this guy like an old boyfriend that you're not over or something?"

A snort escapes before I can stop it and he looks at me like I've lost my mind. "Hardly. Craig is a friend. Only a friend."

"So you've replaced the 'just' with an 'only' now," he observes, "Is that your not so subtle way of convincing me? Or yourself?"

"I'm not trying to convince anyone, Jesse. Why don't you believe me?"

"Because you're lying to me, Ellie," he shouts, standing up and walking towards the door.

"Jesse," I call after him. He stops at the door, hand on the knob, but doesn't look back at me. "Honestly? Yeah, I wanted Craig once."

"Once?" he asked skeptically.

When I don't answer, he finally turns back to me. Guilt is written all over my face, I can see it in the accusatory expression directed back at me.

"Are you in love with him?"

When he asks me that, I get this weird sense of déjà vu and the image of Craig smiling at me from across the small dingy room at the rec center that housed the place where 'us' really began to form came into my mind, followed quickly by the remembrance of his arms wrapped around me as our hands moved as one over the drums. And with the feel of his breath blowing softly against my hair as he slept peacefully behind me still fresh in both my mind and my heart, I know with a shocking burst of clarity that we're nowhere close to finished yet.

"I want to say no, believe me I do," I tell him in a small voice, "but I honestly don't know."

"You have feelings for him?"

"Yeah. Pretty serious ones," I confess.

Jesse finally turns around and faces me. My heart lurches at what we've lost here today. We could have had something good, Jesse and me. If only we'd had the chance.

If only my heart was free.

"I hope you get what you want," he chokes out. Then, just like that, he's gone and I know it's over. For good.

For whatever reason, I follow him out onto the porch, watching as he gets back in his car and drives away. He never once looks back.

I kick at the floorboards with my toe, and my foot stops short of something sitting in front of the door.

My box.

I take it inside, opening the familiar lid on the way. Everything is still there. But there are things that weren't there before. The Palmistry book and the plane ticket are laying on top of all the little things I've stuck in there over the last two years.

This is bizarre. How did this get here? The last time I saw it, it was in my garbage can at the dorms and that was a week ago and I'm fairly certain it wasn't here earlier or else my mother would have opened it and then proceed to grill me about every single item in it. And Jesse never said a word about it; surely he would have brought it inside had he seen it. So how'd it get here?

I need coffee.

…0...0...0...0...0...0...

Of course there's no coffee at home. I used the last of what was left last night, and my mom conveniently forgot to get any when she went to the market this morning. Thus forcing me out of the house to the Dot for a latte.

It's packed, as usual. Gr, why can't these high school kids just stay home? It's not like they need to be here. Tomorrow is New Year's Eve, there has to be an out of control party somewhere where they can all get plastered and naked.

But no. Like I said, I was born under a cursed star and when I walk in my eyes land right on Manny sitting in a booth with a very snuggly Emma and Sean.

Just freaking fantastic.

And they've seen me. It's obvious by the halted laughter and the burning looks directed at my back.

I order my coffee and make to leave. But somebody stops me; the last person I ever thought would want to speak to me.

Emma.

She's standing in front of me, looking so sympathetic that I kind of hate her a little bit.

"Yes?" I snap. Is it bad that I enjoy watching her eyes widen at my rudeness?

"Look, Ellie," she says, "I know you don't like me, and I don't blame you for it."

I quirk my eyebrow at her statement. Did she actually just say that? "Really?"

She nods, her shiny blonde hair shimmying across her tan shoulders. God, could she be any more of a Barbie cliché?

"But," she went on, "Sean told me what happened at the mall."

"Nothing happened except your little sidekick over there going all drama queen and dumping her boyfriend."

She quirks a perfectly arched eyebrow at me. "Ellie, you and I know better than most how oblivious Sean can be at times."

She wants to bring that up now? "Do you have a point?" I demand. I am so ready to be done with this conversation.

"My point," she snaps, "is that even he could see, in ten minutes, that there is something between you and Craig."

I recall the look in Sean's eyes that day. It was like he knew what I was feeling. I used to love when he looked at me that way, like he was the one person in the whole world who actually understood me. Back then, it was what held me together during the worst point of my life when in reality I now realize it probably had more to do with what I wanted from Sean than what he actually got.

"Sean has no clue what he was talking about. And neither do you," I snap, walking past her towards the door.

Of course she follows me.

"I'm trying to help you here, Ellie. Don't ignore that because you're still bitter over Sean."

Oh she did not just go there.

She raises her hand to cut off my impending tirade when I whirl around to face her. "I know you loved him, Ellie, but be honest here. Did you really think he was over me, or were you mean to me just because you didn't like my shoes?"

Okay, she's got me there. I know Sean wasn't over her when we were together. Any time she came into a room he would either get really quiet and pretend he didn't see her, or become overly couply, all the while sneaking glances to see if she was noticing. I was perfectly justified in hating her.

"What does Sean never getting over you have to do with me and Craig?" I ask, now thoroughly ticked and wanting to throw my coffee in her face.

"It means," she says slowly as if she's talking to a child, "that I get it."

God, Sean deserves a medal for putting up with this for six years. I have no clue what she's getting at here.

"You get what?"

"Look, Manny is my best friend. She's like my sister. But Craig is my friend too and I want him to be happy. And if that means you, then so be it."

There's a throbbing developing in my temples that came from either the lack of caffeine in my system or the monologue from Little Miss Goody Two Shoes. I rub my head in an attempt to ease the pain, but it's no use.

"Emma, I'm really not getting this."

Her expression softens, so much so that I can almost see why Sean always ran to her.

"I know what it's like to love someone and have to see them with somebody else every day," she says softly.

My eyes fall on Sean in the booth behind her, his blue eyes fixed intently on us. My heart lurches and I suddenly get what Emma's been trying to say this whole time.

"It sucks," I tell her.

"Yeah," she agrees, "and it never gets any easier. I felt like that every day when you were with Sean. So I know how you're feeling right now. But you have a chance. You can get Craig."

"What do you think Manny's going to say when she finds out about this little conversation?" I ask

She shrugs. "I told her what I was going to say. She's not happy about it, but she'll get over it. She and Craig are better off apart. The last few months they barely spoke, and when they did they would bicker. She loves him, but he wants you. Anybody can see that."

"

…0...0...0...0...0...0...

Airport security sucks. You would think they had never seen someone running to try and catch a plane before. And really, do I look like a terrorist?

They're lucky I was in a hurry and didn't have the time to go off on them like I normally would have.

I can hear Craig's send off crew before I see them. Jimmy, Ash, Marco, Spinner, Joey, Angie, Diane-they're all there, laughing and joking. Craig's in the center, a forced smile on his face.

I stop and look at him for a second. He should be on top of the world right now. This is what he's been working towards all this time, but he looks like somebody just shot his dog.

"Craig!"

It takes me a second to realize the shout came from me. But then everybody turns to look at me standing there with two bags and a ticket clutched in my hand.

Craig breaks away and walks toward me, handing his luggage off to Joey. I see Marco and Ash watching over Craig's shoulder. The rest of them turn away politely, trying to give us some semblance of privacy in the crowded airport, but they keep watching. Ash looks at Marco, obviously having no clue what she's seeing, and Marco puts an arm around her consolingly. He looks ready to burst out of skin in curiosity, however.

Craig stops short of me, uneasiness plain as day on his familiar features.

"You came," he says softly. "And you have luggage. Does this mean your coming with me?"

"I don't know," I answer.

His forehead wrinkles, a small line popping up between his eyebrows like it always does when he's thinking too hard. "Then why are you here?"

"Craig, were you at my house this morning?"

He swallows and I watch as his Adam's Apple bobs with the motion. He shoves his hands in his pockets and his eyes go to the floor. "Yeah," he finally admits.

"Did you leave that box on my porch?" I don't really know why I'm asking this, I already know the answer.

"I came over to convince you to come with me and that's when I saw him." The bitterness is evident in his voice and I want to be angry at him, really I do. Jesse and I were doing really good until Craig came back and made me realize it was all fake.

"Jesse broke up with me. Officially. I had to tell him the truth," I tell him.

His eyes, sad yet hopeful, finally rise to meet mine. "What truth would that be?"

"That I'm not over you. Not even close," I admit.

Craig unbuttons his shirt cuff and pushes it upwards. What is he doing now? Then he takes off his watch and holds his wrist out to me. And there, on the inside of his wrist, is a tiny tattoo. I had no idea Craig had a tattoo. Let alone one of a small blue star.

"What is that for?" I ask, hearing the breathlessness in my own voice.

"Do you remember that summer when we were at the park watching the fireworks with Angie?"

I nod, not trusting my own voice at the moment.

"And then," he continues, "when I was walking you home we saw that shooting star?"

I nod again. I had almost forgotten about that.

"When I made my wish," he tells me, reminding me of my insistence that we both do it out of the silliness of the moment, "I wished that we would always be like that."

Aw, I feel myself melting into a big pile of mush. No. Bad Ellie. Don't let him do this to you.

"So then why get a tattoo?"

"It was my first week in Vancouver," he starts, "I missed everybody like crazy, even though I was loving being out there. So the guys in the band took me out for some drinks and we ended up in a tattoo parlor. I was sitting there in the chair and that moment came into my mind and I couldn't get rid of it."

"But why not get something to do with your girlfriend? She's the one you love, right?"

Craig shakes his head, stepping closer to me. "No, she's not. Not anymore."

"_Ladies and gentlemen, flight 452, nonstop to Vancouver is now boarding at Gate 12." _

The announcer's voce pulls me out of whatever place I'm in where all I can see is Crag's eyes and I'm grateful. This isn't something to do on a whim.

"Are you coming with me?" he asks. I see Joey heading towards us behind Craig.

"On one condition," I tell him.

"And that would be?"

"I want you to give me a reason. One good reason why I should come with you. Not why you want me to, but why I should. Give me just one reason to trust you and leave everything in my life behind me. Can you do that?"

Craig looks so tired. His eyes close and his head falls forward. Why do I feel like this is a bad sign?

"No," he whispers, "I can't."

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_**A/N: Yeah, I don't really like this chapter at all. But I had no idea what else to write, so here you have it.**_


	13. Faith

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Faith

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"You can't?" I choke out.

He shakes his head sadly. Don't know why I expected anything else. This is just one more example of my legendary luck.

"No," Craig says, "I can't give you a good reason to trust me. Because I haven't done anything to earn it."

He's got a point there.

He steps closer, halting Joey's progression towards us and ignoring the second boarding call over the intercom. "I know I don't exactly have the best track record. There isn't a single reason for any girl to ever trust me. I've hurt you, El, and I hate myself for that. And there are … things you don't know. Things that happened in Vancouver, and they could change the way you see me. So no, I can't give you a reason to come with me based on trust."

I nod, getting what he's saying. It hurts, yeah. But I understand. And this is for the best. Maybe now I can finally move on.

Or I could if Craig had stopped there. But he keeps talking.

"But I'm asking you to come with me on faith."

"Faith?" I feel my nose wrinkle in distaste at the word. Faith is not something I have a big stockpile of. I like to have good, solid proof before I do something. It saves against the hurt in the long run.

"Yes, faith. Pure, unadulterated faith. The kind I had when I went to your dorm to find you and found that box in the garbage." I blush and look away from him in shame that I did that. "I know I have no right to ask this of you," he continues, " but if you feel like I do, like I think you do, then please, Ellie, just have a little faith in me. In us."

Oh God, I think I just felt my heart actually explode in my chest. And you wanna know something? It's the most amazing feeling in the world.

"Us?" I breath.

A smile breaks it's way onto Craig's face. I feel a matching one on my own that's ridiculously huge and goofy and I don't even care how silly I must look right now.

"Us," he repeats. He takes my hand in his, my thumb landing next to the tiny little star adorning the inside of his wrist. The mark, the permanent mark I might add, that he got for me.

Joey finally reaches us. He clears his throat to get our attention. "Craig, they're about to close the doors. Are you coming?"

"Are you?" he directs at me.

Life changes in a split second. Accidents happen, people die, hearts break. Things so monumental they alter everything around them, and so small you don't even realize the impact they've had until years later. Then there are those that you watch happen with the full knowledge that everything is about to be thrown into a tailspin and when you wake up the next day you're going to be a different person.

And sometimes it's worth it.

"Why are we still standing here?" I ask him, delighting n the way his whole face lights up and then his arms are around me as he picks me off the ground and spins me around.

"Let's get out of here," he announces once I'm back on my feet. He takes hold of my hand once more and we rush toward the crowd who are trying so hard to appear as if they haven't been watching every second of what just transpired between Craig and me.

The next few minutes are a flurry of hugs and goodbyes and a few tears and then I'm face to face with Ash. She still looks confused by the whole thing, but she smiles at me and hugs me tightly whispering a "Good luck" in my ear before she pulls away.

Then Craig is pulling me towards the gate and I hand my ticket to the flight attendant before we board the plane. We settle into our seats, first class no less, and Craig gives me that look I've been dreaming of for the past year.

"What?"

"Are you really here?" he asks. "You're really coming with me?"

I beam at him. I can't help it. It took too long, and it was hard, but we're here now, together, and somehow it was all worthwhile.

"You bet," I tell him. "You just better be worth all this trouble, Manning."

The slow curving of his lips in that coy, 'You know you want me' way he has turn my knees to jelly and he leans in until his breath is hitting my lips and I shiver. "Oh, I am Miss Nash."

I shove at his shoulder, letting the giddiness of the moment get to me. "You're very arrogant, you know that?"

"Ah, you know you love me for it."

He's right, but I don't tell him that. Instead I lean in, the silence of the moment interrupted by the plane taking off from the runway as my lips touch his briefly. It only lasts half a second, but it's the proof I wanted. Real, undeniable proof that I'm doing the right thing. That Craig was right the whole time. It was never about proof.

It was about faith.

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